


Impossible Soul

by Raven_Novak



Series: Brave New World [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, New Hunter Network, Post-Season/Series 10, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4439531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Novak/pseuds/Raven_Novak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4175031/chapters/9425940">Dust In The Wind</a></p><p>It's been over a month since the final battle with the Darkness. The New Hunter Network is expanding, and more and more Croatoan survivors are being taken in each day. But even as the future looks bright, there is still a tempest raging within Sam Winchester. </p><p>Sometimes the most difficult part is picking up the pieces and putting yourself back together. But then again, sometimes you don't have to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Song: ["Impossible Soul"](https://youtu.be/KVIQxWxj76U)

Sam Winchester has been awake for an hour now, but still he hasn’t moved from his bed. Actually, it isn’t even his bed. It’s Jody’s, as he’s been staying at her cabin ever since the final showdown at the refugee camp outside of Chicago. Ever since he lost Dean.  


The muscles in his face tighten a bit at the thought of his brother, and his mouth settles into a tired frown. He fights the urge to roll onto his side, instead continuing to drill his invisible hole into the ceiling, not blinking until his eyes begin to sting.  


The sky beyond the drawn curtains is grey, and he can see the diluted light filtering through the slit between the fabric. It’s a vast improvement from the incessant black which had ruled under the Darkness, and there have even been a few blue, cloudless days since. Today is not one of them. Today is cold and damp and white with snow, and Sam feels as if he is losing his mind. He breaks his steady concentration, squeezing his eyes shut and running his fingers over his face and into his hair. That’s when he hears a gentle knock at the door, and suddenly Jody’s opening it. Sam bolts upright; he hates it when people see him in bed during the day, looking lost and sorry for himself. He doesn’t want them to think that he’s that person, even if he is. Especially Jody. But Jody already knows.  


“Hey, Sam,” she says gently, probing to see if this is a good time or not. It isn’t, but then again it never is. Sam compromises.  


“Hey, Jody,” he replies, standing up. His feet are bare on the cold wood floor, but otherwise he is clothed. He’s been wearing the same clothes for the past few days, too exhausted in every sense of the word to be bothered with changing. He knows he’s filthy, and he doesn’t need a mirror to recognize that his eyes are red-rimmed with dark circles, his hair disheveled. He hasn’t looked this bad since the Trials, but honestly, he had felt significantly better back then.  


Jody looks tired herself, but not quite in the same manner as Sam. Physically, she composers herself better. She still showers, still wears her makeup and changes her clothes and looks after the others. He knows that she must be feeling the pain just as intensely as him. They try not to talk about it, but once, three days after the end, she had spoken to him.  


They had been sitting around a fire in the woods beyond the cabin, having hitched a ride back home from Gabriel. The sky was darkening, and primal panic was fluttering in Sam’s chest; he knew that this darkness wasn’t permanent, but he still couldn’t shake the fear that maybe it would be, just like before. But the sun always came back up, and every day Sam counted it as a small miracle.  


Jody’s eyes danced in the light of the flames, her face painted a soft orange by the aura. Her expression was unreadable, her legs drawn up against her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she was still cold beneath her coat and hat. They had built the fire for no particular reason, and the two sat in silence, watching the sparks dance about the night air. Sam was beginning to nod off when Jody spoke, and suddenly he was wide awake, his heart thrumming anxiously against his ribcage.  


“I feel…” The words trailed off with a choked sound, and Jody closed her eyes to compose herself. When she opened them they had been glassy, but she had soldiered on. “I feel like it’s my fault, sometimes. The Darkness was inside me, I could hear its thoughts. I could feel it use my hands to break… to hurt Dean.” Her gaze flicked upwards, locking with Sam’s. “Hurt you.”  


Sam hadn’t known what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. But when Jody sidled around the fire to sit beside him, her head resting on his shoulder as she drifted off, he hadn’t moved away. To be completely truthful, it had felt good. Comforting.  


They had made a habit of sleeping in the same bed since then. It was always platonic, the tangling of limbs and the occasional holding of hands enough to at least temporarily distill the darkness which had invaded their own minds.  


So as Jody stands in the doorway looking at Sam, she doesn’t ask him if he’s okay, and he doesn’t ask her. They both know the respective answers to that question, and they are content to leave it be for now.  


Jody shifts against the frame, taking a step inside of the room after a moment. “I was talking with Garth. He’s thinking of heading off on a supply run soon. I’m going, and he wanted to know if you’d be interesting in coming too.” Jody inches forward, her eyes still locked firmly with his. Gently, she takes his hand, and hers is warm and small as it rubs gentle circles into his palm. He closes his eyes at the touch, basking in it. “He says they could use your expertise.”  


Sam’s muscles begin to tense, and Jody stops rubbing, but she doesn’t pull away. It starts out small, just a nagging heat in the pit of his stomach. It’s not the pleasant heat of lust, but instead the all-consuming flame of outright dread. It grows and grows until he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of some great precipice, about to fall over…  


Jody’s touch brings him back. He opens eyes he hadn’t realized he’d shut, and Jody is gracing him with a gaze full of compassion. Understanding. Sam swallows. “You go. I think I’ll stay here.”  


“All right.” She pauses, and Sam can sense that she’s holding something back. He opens his eyes, and there is an expression of unease etched into her features. Sam raises his hands, and before he even knows what he’s doing he settles them gently around her face, tilting her chin up.  


“What is it?”  


Jody bites her lip, looking down to the floor but remaining within his grasp. “Adam’s sick.” Before Sam can drown in another wave of panic, Jody hurries into an explanation. “Don’t worry, it isn’t anything serious. It isn’t Croatoan.” There hasn’t been a new outbreak of Croatoan since they vanquished the Darkness. “It’s just a cold. He’ll be fine, but Garth isn’t letting him go on any runs until he’s better.”  


Something icy shoots through Sam, his blood running cold. At first he thinks it might be a fresh wave of fear, but after it settles he recognizes the familiar stomach-churning sensation of irrepressible guilt. He drops his hands to his side as if he’s just been burned, and Jody glances up to him in concern.  


“I - I…” Sam stutters, but honestly he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. He swallows, the hairs on the backs of his arms prickling, and he can feel a panic attack coming on. He clenches his fists, his fingers curling into the scar tissue he had abused so much when he had been suffering from the hallucinations of Lucifer. _Now he has real memories to haunt him…_  


Jody says nothing, just pulls him into a hug. “I know,” she whispers.

 

|

 

Sometimes Jody Mills can barely summon the strength to get up in the morning. Often times she won’t fall asleep until well after midnight, only to wake a few short hours later at the first steely grey rays of dawn. She’ll stare out the window at the thin light as it grows into something larger, something magnificent. With a sigh, she’ll look over to Sam’s still sleeping figure and push out of bed; at least one of them has to get up and face the day, and she knows that it won’t be Sam.  


She’ll use the bathroom and get changed (she never really liked lazing around in pajamas), then she’ll go downstairs and prepare breakfast for herself, Annie, and Sam. Annie will get up as soon as she hears the sizzling of bacon or the gurgling of the coffee maker, and although often they’ll eat in silence, Jody is grateful for the company.  


Jody leaves an extra plate of food on the counter for Sam, but rarely does she return to find it so much as touched.  


This morning, as she prepares for Garth’s supply run after her talk with Sam, her thoughts turn to Claire. She has rarely spoken with the girl since their return, even less since she moved in with Castiel on the other extreme of the camp’s borders. There is no hostility between them, and there hasn’t ever been. But things are… tense, and understandably so. They’ve all lost something. Someone.  


As she walks through the camp, bundled up tight in her winter clothing, she surveys the land. The New Hunter Network is the closest to normalcy that she will likely experience for the remainder of her days. Scattered amongst the mounds of white snow, tucked between trees and the surrounding drumlins, are cabins and houses warmed principally by wood stoves and fireplaces. If it weren’t for the barbed wire barricades and sheds of weapons, it would be almost quaint. But this is the world that they live in now, and there’s no going back to before.  


After the final showdown, Croatoan ceased to spread. Without the command of the Darkness, the Chicago Croats were quickly eliminated by the angelic and demonic garrisons. There were no survivors amongst the infected, and no cure. Since then, the Hunters and the garrisons have continued to hunt the remaining Croats across the globe, and the numbers of infected is rapidly dwindling. Survivors have come out of hiding, and under the guidance of the Hunters and their new allies, the humans have begun to rebuild.  


The New Hunter Network has grown to two full camps, one here in New York state, and the other where the Croatoan refugee camp used to be located outside of Chicago. Jody and Garth head the New York camp, and retain primary control over the Network as a whole, while Cole Trenton and Krissy Chambers have assumed command of the Chicago camp. Since then, even angels (and the occasional demon) have taken up tenancy within the camps, smaller garrisons merging with the factions of Hunters. Jody thinks to herself as she walks about, the lines separating the two are constantly becoming thinner.

 

|

 

For a long time, Sam stands in front of the door simply _debating_ stepping outside. He’s wrapped up in a ridiculous amount of layers, and quite frankly, he’s dripping with sweat at this point, but still he can’t bring his stubborn muscles to move. He sighs, and he’s just getting ready to undress and head back to bed when he hears a familiar voice behind him.  
“Hey there, kiddo.”  


Sam nearly loses his balance as he practically whips around. Gabriel is standing there in the hallway, leaning nonchalantly against the nearest wall, which is adorned with Jody’s family pictures. The archangel looks the same as ever, although the lines in his face are softer, and he’s wearing a maroon sweater that’s somewhere on the spectrum between tacky and tasteful. Sam swallows. “Gabriel.”  


Gabriel smiles, spreading his arms in indication to himself as he waggles his eyebrows. “In the flesh.”  


Taking a step back, Sam steadies himself. His muscles coil as he clenches his fists nervously at his sides, and Gabriel must notices, because the grin fades from his face as he flicks his eyes to Sam’s hands. “What are you doing here?” asks Sam tonelessly. Gabriel shrugs. When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly devoid of arrogance. It’s… earnest.  


“Thought you could use a pep talk. Sulking isn’t doing you any favors, kid.”  


Sam bites his lip and considers coming back with some bitter remark, but he swallows it before it can form. He unclenches his hands and gestures limply to the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee or anything? Jody keeps some Twix bars in the cupboard. I think it’s for if you drop in.”  


Gabriel quirks an only semi-sarcastic smile. “Sure.”

 

The kitchen is cozy from the heat of the wood stove, and Sam is certain that if he doesn’t take off his coat within the next minute he’ll melt into a gooey puddle on the floor. He shucks layer by layer until he’s wearing his usual jeans and flannel, which to be honest is still too much, but that’s as far as he’ll go with company. Especially when that company is Gabriel.  


He puts on some coffee and absently begins to dig through the cabinet overhead for the Twix bars he knows to be in the back left corner. Finding them, he pulls the package out, tossing a couple of the wrapped bars to the archangel, who opens them greedily. As he takes the first bite, Gabriel lets out an ungodly sound, and Sam finds himself awkwardly averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. In his attempt to not notice Gabriel making pornographic noises, his gaze settles on a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, now cold. New guilts knots his chest as he thinks of Jody. He knows that she makes him breakfast every day, but he almost never finds the energy to eat it. She never brings it up.  


“Nice setup you got here,” says Gabriel through a mouthful of chocolate. Sam flinches as some pieces fall out of his mouth and onto the space at the table where he’s sitting.  


Sam hesitates, turning to the coffee machine and filling a black ceramic mug. There is a chip around the rim near the handle, and he wonders absently how it came to be. “Yeah.”  


Gabriel finishes off the first bar, pausing before he moves on to unwrap the second. Sam places the steaming mug in front of him, and the archangel gives the slightest smile in thanks. “You know, I get it. I really do. Angels might not be like humans in many ways, but one thing we do feel is our brothers’ deaths.” He looks up, his green eyes flaring with an alien intensity. “I’ve been where you are.”  


The Winchester grunts, slumping down into the chair across from him. “Right.”  


Setting aside the candy bar altogether, Gabriel leans forward, his palms resting flat against the table. “This isn’t a trick. I’m not lying. I know you won’t believe me, but I’m here because I want to help you.”  


“Right, because you’re such the caring type-”  


“Don’t… test… me.” Energy buzzes in the air like the angry hum of a high voltage electric fence, and the hairs on the backs of Sam’s arms prickle. He intensifies his glare for a moment, but then his face is neutral once more, and he sits back. The buzzing fades, and across from him, the archangel relaxes. Gabriel continues.  


“It’s okay for you to mourn your brother. Do what you have to. But he wouldn’t want you to let the rest of your life slip away.” There is a moment of visible hesitation as Gabriel pushes out the next few words, weighing Sam’s response most likely. “He died so that you could live, and so that you and everyone else could make something of this silly little planet. If you just drift through life like a ghost, then you’re doing him a disservice.”  


Sam tilts his head to the side, fighting back the tirade screaming in his mind. “And how would you know what my brother would have wanted? You _killed_ him hundreds of times as a _joke._ ”  


The muscles in Gabriel’s face become taut for the briefest of moments. He shakes his head. “It wasn't a joke, it was a lesson. But you’re right. I wouldn’t know. But if the past is an indication of anything, and you Winchesters really possess the integrity that everyone accredits you, then you’ll know I’m right.”  


The younger Winchester stares stubbornly at the grain of the table, trying to find proper anger but failing. He isn’t mad. Just tired. He sighs and looks up to Gabriel.  
“You have a point.”  


The archangel smirks, taking a bite out of the second candy bar. “Of course I’m right.” He winks, and Sam can’t help but crack a smile; the Trickster’s grown on him a bit over the past few months. It lingers for a few moments, but eventually the grin fades, replaced by uncertainty. As if sensing his thoughts, Gabriel speaks.  


“So what are you gonna do next, Winchester?”  


Sam shakes his head slightly, his vision drifting off to the empty space in the hallway beyond. Eventually his eyes focus on something hanging on the wall, a photograph. This one’s more recent, and he isn’t sure how he didn’t notice it before: Jody and the girls standing in the woods somewhere, a blue sky peaking through the leaves. It must have been taken just before the Darkness. Before Croatoan.  


When Sam returns his attention to the archangel, another earnest, albeit somber smile graces his lips. “I’m going to go see my brother.”  


Gabriel raises his brows, but after a moment he seems to understand, settling into a more relaxed position. “Go get ‘im, tiger.” He smiles back, and it’s with teeth and honesty, and totally devoid of sarcasm. For a moment there is an intense kinship between them, something free of pretense or condition. Something true.  


Sam pushes off from where he is leaning against the counter and reaches into the cupboard, pulling out another Twix and tossing it to Gabriel, who catches it eagerly. As he makes his way to the door, he stops for a moment and looks back. “What are you going to do?” he asks the archangel, and suddenly he feels light in both body and soul.  


The angel shrugs. “I can’t stay long. Lucifer’s being a bitch, as usual, and I’m trying to reorganize Heaven a bit. Things were a bit _too_ structured up there. They need to learn to loosen up a little.” He pauses, as if considering something. “Don’t worry too much, bucko, I’ll be back for visits.” Standing up from the table, the chair groans as it slides back against the floor, and Gabriel points his still-wrapped candy bar towards Sam. “Now get going.” And with that, Sam is alone in the kitchen. For a moment he just stares at the empty space, considering the surreal conversation he has just had with an Archangel of the Lord. Calmly, he puts back on his coat and makes his way out of the door.

 

* * *

 

The cold air stings his face, but Sam is hardly bothered by the sensation. He almost welcomes it, in contrast to the numbness which he has been feeling almost incessantly for the past month or so.  


They way through the camp is familiar, the grey filter of long-absent daylight casting shadows over the melting snow through the net of the trees. Jody’s cabin is on the northern border of the camp, isolated from the center of the village, but the walk to the heart of the camp is serene, relaxing. There is a slight breeze, the staccato chirp of birds, the rustling of the flora and fauna of the place. It feels good. It feels safe. It feels like life.  


The Winchester encounters only a few people on the way to his destination, a place he has avoided with consternation since his arrival. He recognizes a couple of faces, nods politely to them in passing, but says nothing more. No one stops him.  


When he reaches the doorstep, Sam simply stands for a while staring into the cavity of the entrance. The house is small, but not without charm, although it is but a shell of what it must have once been. The paint is grey and peeling, but it betrays a pinkish tint, as if it had once been a warm, rosy color. The number _69_ rests on the wooden door, the metal having long-since oxidized, for now it is textured and rusty. The curtains of the two front windows of the house’s only story are drawn, giving no hint as to what to expect from the interior.  
Sam rests there, suddenly uncertain of his decision. There’s still time to turn back, to change his mind… but no. He can’t. He won’t. With a deep breath, he pinches his eyes shut and raises a fist to the door, gently rapping against the frame.  


At first, there is no sound from within, no indication of life. Sam teeters on his feet, contemplating leaving, but then there is a noise. The shuffling of feet meets his ears, and then the door is swinging open and revealing a face which Sam has mourned, has _feared_ for so long. The young man looks up at him, his features still boy-like in many ways, and his eyes are wide with initial curiosity, and then shrewd suspicion. He looks a bit pale, a thin sheet of sweat coating his forehead, and a hint of red surrounds his eyes. Sam swallows.  


“Hello, Adam.”  


His half-brother purses his lips. “Hey,” he says after a moment. They stand there together in silence, Adam within the shelter of the doorway, and Sam just beyond, confined to the steps.  


“How are you feeling?”  


Adam shrugs, fidgeting with his arms and shifting his weight from foot to foot.  


“Do you think I could come in?” asks the remaining Winchester after a moment. There is a pause, and then Adam nods, stepping aside to let Sam inside.  


The interior is dark without the light of the sun beyond the curtains. It’s slightly eerie, seeing the wooden furniture with its floral upholstery cast into such heavy shadow. There are picture frames on the mantle of the fireplace (still filled with ash), each flipped over so that the photographs are not visible, and Sam wonders who this house initially belonged to. Did they survive? Are they here in the camp, or elsewhere? Are they dead?  


Adam slumps into the armchair, and motions to the couch, where Sam carefully perches. He doesn’t take off his coat, uncertain just how far his stay extends and unwilling to make Adam uncomfortable. Silently, he debates what to say; he hadn’t thought beyond arriving at the door, and now that it has actually happened he doesn’t know where to go from here.  


Mercifully, it is Adam who speaks first. “Why are you here?” he asks in a measured tone, his words only faintly acerbic. Sam clears his throat.  


“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, his eyes searching the strands of the beige carpet. He raises his head to meet Adam’s steady gaze. “We never really did get to talk. You know, like normal siblings.”  


Adam’s shoulders raise with the hint of a bitter laugh. He sits forward in the chair, wiping some of the sweat from his face. “Yeah, well, we were never normal siblings. You didn’t even know I existed before the whole Apocalypse thing.”  


Sam resists the urge to wince at the words, knowing full well that he is responsible, and that he cannot pretend not to be. “I know. And that’s why I’m here now. I wanted to apologize.” This statement seems to take Adam off guard, because he raises his eyebrows a bit. Sam pushes onwards. “The things you’ve been through because of us, it’s unfair and it’s terrible. And I’m sorry.” Adam says nothing, simply keeps staring, so Sam licks his lips and continues. “I know it’s too late to reverse what happened. There’s no taking that back, and the horrors that you have been put through are one of my most haunting regrets. But you are family, and, if you’ll let me… I want to get to know you.”  


There is a long silence, and for a few moments Sam is terrified that Adam will say no, spit his apology back in his face and tell him never to talk to him again. He wouldn’t blame him. His stomach twists in knots, tighter and tighter as the seconds tick by, announced by the wretched sunburst analog clock hanging over the mantle. But then Adam says something that steals the breath from him, and it’s so simple but it means so, _so_ much.  


“Okay,” Adam whispers, shifting in the chair. He nods, and repeats the word, testing the feeling of it on his lips. “Okay.”  


Sam feels the smile spreading across his face, and he is hardly ashamed of the tears stinging at his eyes. A tiny laugh escapes him in a huff of air. He’s getting another chance…  


“I’m not Dean, though,” says Adam gruffly, leveling his gaze. His eyes are blue, different from Sam’s green ones, from Dean’s. “I’m sorry about what happened, but I’m not going to be a replacement for him. I just want you to understand that. “  


Sam nods eagerly, still intoxicated by the moment. “Yes, I understand.”  


They sit for a while, the air stagnating from the uncomfortable lack of conversation. Finally, Adam asks, “What was Dad like with you?”  


A shock of something strange and nameless sweeps over Sam at the mention of his father. John Winchester had been the root of so much turmoil in their lives, but at the same time he was such a large component of the people that they had become…  


Sam shrugs. “Dunno… that’s kind of a tough question.” He breathes through his nostrils, trying to find the right words. “He was… strict. Very protective, easy to anger, intimidating. But he was also…” He hesitates, his voice trailing off. He flicks his eyes off to Adam, removing them from the forest mural tacked to the wall to his right. “He made us feel safe.”  


Adam nods, digesting the information. “Dad was, well… he was sheltering. I mean, it was great when he’d come up, we’d go out and do things. But he never told me about the real world, all of the crap that was out there. He didn’t teach me to hunt or anything, hell, he didn’t even show me how to play poker.”  


Sam Winchester raises his eyebrows at this. “You don’t know how to play poker?” Adam shakes his head. A moment passes, and then, “Would you like to learn?”

 

|

 

Jody likes doing supply runs. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone if asked, but there’s something about it which relaxes her. It’s straightforward: you go in, get what you need without doing anything stupid, and get out. Simple in concept. Not always so in execution.  


Today, mercifully, is smooth-sailing. Since the big showdown, the spread of Croatoan has ceased, and encounters with the few remaining infected have been scarce. More and more often they’re bringing home _survivors_ , people who are alive and relatively unscathed. The people who will help to rebuild.  


The weight of her handgun in the holster at her side is familiar, grounding. As she keeps watch outside of the abandoned store, she allows her mind to wander, but not too much, lest there be trouble. But there isn’t. And against her better judgment, she allows herself to relax a little. Her eyes drift shut, and she releases a heavy sigh, the sounds of the barren forest beyond the building filling her ears. Wind rustles branches and disturbs the rubbish littering the streets, and there is the cawing of birds. It’s so good to hear life again, a reminder of when -  


“Hey, Jody.” Jody startles at the sound of her name, and when she looks to her side, Garth is standing there. Embarrassed at being caught off guard, she fights the redness flooding her cheeks, crossing her arms over her chest. Her spindly companion looks down to her in concern, his brows scrunched together.  


“Hey, Garth. Sorry, you scared me. I… should have been paying closer attention.”  


Garth simply shrugs. “No problemo. I mean, everyone’s okay, so I guess just watch out next time.”  


Not quite knowing what to say to this, Jody simply nods. For a few moments they stand side by side, both awkwardly averting the other’s gaze and waiting for the time to pass.  
“So everything’s going okay?” Jody says finally, nodding towards the door. “No Croats?”  


The other Hunter shakes his head. “Nope. Just finishing up. We’ll be heading back soon.”  


Again they lapse into a tense silence, and Jody can sense that there is something that Garth wants to say, but she doesn’t push him to say it. She waits. A minute later, Garth plunges in with a sigh.  


“Are you all right, Jody? Crap, I mean, of course you aren’t, but… are you going to be okay?”  


The words don’t register until they’re already out of her mouth, and in that moment, she realizes that they’re true. “Yeah,” she says, tilting her head a bit to the side. “I’ve got Sam. We’ll get through this.” _I’ve got Sam._ She shifts her eyes to Garth, and she can see one of those earnest smiles blossoming across his features. Garth never fakes being happy.  


“Good,” he says after a moment. “I’m glad.”  


While they wait for the others to return with their supplies, Jody allows herself a step closer to Garth, so that there is only an inch or so between them in the chilly new spring air. It dawns on her that right now, filled with the heat of her thoughts, she is happy too.

 

|

 

It’s early evening when Sam returns to the cabin, and Jody’s already back from the supply run. She makes them supper (macaroni and cheese), and Annie even comes down to the table to eat with them. After dinner, she helps clean up the plates, and then goes back to her room leaving Sam and Jody to work together in quiet as they put away the silverware. However, the silence isn’t the same tenuous space which had been between them for so long… it’s something different, gentler. A mutual understanding.  


After they’re done picking up, they go upstairs to their room and crawl into the bed, laying side by side and looking at the ceiling together as neither of them speak.  


“Did you have a good day?” asks Jody at around quarter to eleven.  


“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Did you?”  


Jody turns to him in the bed, and she smiles, her eyes glinting in the light of the moon beyond the window. “Yeah. I did.” She curls in close to him, resting her head against his chest, and Sam wraps his arms carefully around her. After all of the nights that they have slept in the same bed, this is the most intimate that they have ever been. He has never felt closer to another human being. And for once, he feels like everything is going to be all right.  


They are building the future together, the two of them. But they aren’t trying to resurrect the world that once was. That world is beyond saving, and this world is startlingly different, and perhaps in some ways, it is better. This is a world where demons and angels are common knowledge, a world where even the civilians are aware of the most basic forms of protection. A world where a strange balance has settled between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. But most of all, it’s a world with hope.  


A world with love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is the first work of my promised epilogue series to ["Dust In The Wind"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4175031/chapters/9425940), detailing the lives of Team Free Will following the events of the final battle with the Darkness. I will be writing three more brief one-shots, the next of which will be about Gabriel and Crowley, so stay tuned and I'll post them as I finish them. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated. Thanks. :)


End file.
